


Recreation, Relaxation

by Scrawlers



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 18:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: While taking a break in the garden, Alan shows Lizardon what it might be like to fly someday.





	Recreation, Relaxation

**Author's Note:**

> The exact time this takes place is unspecified, but Lizardon is still a baby, which means he’s under a year old and Alan is ten. I’d say he’s maybe a few months old. And as a reminder, in my works "Lizardon" is a nickname that Alan bestowed upon him when he was a charmander, hence why it used despite Lizardon still being a little bitty baby charmander here, and "Gabby" is short for "Gabrielle" which is the name of Professor Sycamore's garchomp.

Lizardon didn’t know what it was like to fly.

He would know someday, or at least, he thought he would. Alan had showed him pictures in books of what he would be when he grew up: first a charmeleon, and then a charizard, and charizard had wings. Charizard could fly, Alan said—they could use their wings to fly just like the fletchinder and the combee did, but differently because their wings were different. Lizardon didn’t really know what was different about it, because he had never seen a charizard fly before (and, given that he was still a charmander, knew it would be a long time before he got to experience that himself), but he knew that Alan was telling him the truth. Alan always told him the truth, and that day, he was giving Lizardon a taste of what it would be like to fly someday.

Alan was taking a break, relaxing with Lizardon out in the yard, lying back on the grass. He had to work a lot; he worked every day, and sometimes Lizardon watched him, or tried to help where he could. There wasn’t a whole lot Lizardon could do; he was still small, size-wize, and so the bags of food or stacks of books or other pokémon that Alan carried around sometimes were too big for Lizardon to carry, too. But when the other pokémon needed medicine, or some medical procedure, Lizardon tried to talk to them to calm them down if they were nervous. He looked at the books that Alan read, and sometimes passed him things like pencils or other small little tools that _weren’t_ too big for his claws. And it was fun, too, to just spend time with Alan and watch him work sometimes, so when Lizardon wasn’t playing with the other pokémon in the yard or being taught things by Gabby (Gabby said that were many things he needed to learn, given that he would be a big dragon someday rather than the baby one he is now, and Lizardon didn’t really know how much progress he was making, but Gabby always seemed happy with whatever he accomplished and so he figured he was probably doing a good job of growing into a big dragon like she said he was supposed to), Lizardon would hang out with Alan and watch him work instead.

But right then, they were taking a break. The Professor had said that Alan should, and Alan had agreed to the break readily enough; he had picked Lizardon up and then had gone out into the yard, and once they were out there, Alan had flopped back onto the grass. Lizardon had wondered if he was going to take a nap—and if so, that was fine, because sunny grass was one of Lizardon’s favorite places to nap—but before he could question it Alan had picked him up, holding him aloft by his belly, before he bent his elbows and pushed Lizardon up into the air.

Lizardon had been unable to resist a cry of surprise as his belly swooped. He was pushed straight up, swift and high above Alan as Alan grinned up at him, but even as he flailed his arms and legs he was plummeting back down before he could even think of what to do up in the air. Alan caught him easily; he cupped his hands beneath Lizardon’s arms, his fingers splayed against Lizardon’s scales, and while Lizardon felt a little air leave his chest at the impact with Alan’s hands, it was no worse than when he jumped off Alan’s head onto the bed or the sofa. Lizardon could feel his heart drumming in his chest, and wagged his tail without really thinking about it.

“Was that fun?” Alan asked, still grinning. “It’s like flying, isn’t it?”

Lizardon couldn’t agree or disagree, having never been flying before, but as the surprise wore off he felt himself smiling. It _was_ fun. He bobbed his head in a nod, and Alan’s smile grew.

“Want to go again?” Alan asked.

Lizardon tried to respond with an actual _yes_ —he did, he really did, but all he managed was half a syllable before he giggled instead, wagging his tail more fiercely and flailing his arms. Alan practically beamed before he tossed Lizardon up in the air again, and this time Lizardon couldn’t resist a peal of delight as something in his belly did somersaults.

Alan tossed him a few more times like that—catch, then toss, then catch, then toss—but on the last one he paused a moment, lowering Lizardon more than he did before, before he suddenly tossed Lizardon up in the air with all his strength. Later, when Lizardon thought on it, he would realize that he didn’t go that _much_ higher; lying on the ground like he was, Alan wasn’t in the right position to truly launch Lizardon up in the sky. But in that moment, propelled up into the air, Lizardon’s belly felt like it cartwheeled into his throat, and time felt like it slowed. For one seemingly long moment Lizardon could see clear across the yard and across the tops of trees, and that—that feeling of being so high up, nothing binding him to the ground, nothing holding him still, nothing stopping him from seeing anything and everything . . . that, Lizardon thought, must have been what it was truly like to fly.

But the moment shattered. Lizardon plummeted back down, his heart joining his stomach in his throat, and once again Alan caught him, safe and secure. Alan held him aloft, and smiled as he said, “See? There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll always catch you, Lizardon.”

Lizardon knew that—believed it, and had even before the first toss, really—but what he needed far more than that reassurance was for Alan to know the same was true on his side, too. He would always catch Alan, even if it would be hard right then given the difference in size between them. He stretched out his arms as far as he could, flexing his claws toward Alan’s chest as he tried to convey what he meant, and it only took a second for Alan to catch on. He closed his eyes, and when he pulled Lizardon down against his chest and wrapped his arms around him, he was laughing softly, his laughter rumbling from his chest and through Lizardon’s belly.

“I know,” Alan said, and Lizardon had figured that he knew—he saw it in Alan’s eyes just before Alan closed them—but it was comforting to hear anyway.  Lizardon nuzzled his head against Alan’s chest, snuggling down into his embrace. He could hear Alan’s heartbeat like this—a steady _tha-bump, tha-bump, tha-bump_ , nice and rhythmic. Alan was soft, and his hug was warm, and he smelled good and Lizardon had wanted to play before (and they had played—tossing counted as playing, Lizardon thought), but naps were good, too, especially when they were as comfy as this.

He was asleep within minutes.


End file.
